the first christmas

Our first Christmas without you. 

Santa brought Axl exactly what he wanted (a ball pit… in the middle of our living room). He got a wind-up keychain that’s a pull-out roll of film filled with photos of the two of you. He seemed sort of forlorn when he opened it, but then he carried it around in its ornate little box for the rest of the day. He was happy and silly most of the day, but suddenly quiet and stoic in the car on the way to family dinner. After a lot of hugs and cuddles he finally admitted he was sad because everyone else has a dad and he doesn’t. Talk about a punch to the gut. We had a nice moment together though and I supported him through it. I felt the tears welling up for the first time today, wanting to just dissolve into a puddle, or better yet- fall to the ground kicking and screaming, but our boys need me to be strong.

I have 15 unread texts, plus a few missed calls and Facebook messages. I just… can’t. I was also exhaustingly busy today chasing 2 kids around and managing Christmas. I was up late last night playing Santa; I put together Ford’s wooden climber and Axl’s ball pit. I was never, ever the one to put together toys or furniture or Lego sets and now I have no choice. I hate it every time but I do feel stronger and prouder each time, too. 

I’ve been too busy to be sad. And honestly, we didn’t have a sad day. We had a great day surrounded by our family. My brain feels so, so confused how last Christmas could be so different from this Christmas. It’s like I feel the strange grooves trauma wired into my brain to protect me and now there are times I literally can’t comprehend what happened to me. Today has been one of those days. I had a good day and a good Christmas. But I can’t think about what my Christmas SHOULD have looked like. It’s like staring into the sun; I just can’t do it for more than a few seconds before it hurts too much. 

I’m so relieved to have this holiday be over. I didn’t listen to a single Christmas song. The blips I caught here and there popping in and out of the grocery store or someone else’s car brought to my attention that most Christmas songs are depressing as f*ck. Everything is about missing someone on Christmas. I feel that so deeply in my bones but I also just didn’t want to f*cking think about that at all and didn’t appreciate the reminders. 

We kept you present today. We left Kool Aid for Santa. We used the limes from your tree to make our gin and tonics and we toasted to you. Mom got me canvas prints of the photos we took together at each of our kids’ births, along with a print of the J.P. Licks Kool Aid flavor with the cartoon version of you. Darri bought me the sweetest cardinal snow globe. You are so deeply missed. 

Now here I am, finally crying at 10pm on Christmas. Last year I was getting ready for bed, climbing out of the first real outfit I’d worn since the baby was born. It was the first day in 2 months that I’d felt pretty, and the first day in much, much longer than that where I was starting to feel like myself. I remember feeling so happy to feel like your wife again instead of just a milk machine. And 2 weeks later you were gone. And now it’s been almost a year and I just… can’t comprehend that. It’s like a math problem I simply can’t even read. It doesn’t compute. 

Last year we hadn’t even celebrated Christmas with our families yet when you died. Everyone came to town for your funeral and brought Christmas gifts. I hated watching other men bag up wrapping paper and break down boxes, doing your job for you. I hated acting happy and festive and grateful for gifts when all I wanted was you. 

I didn’t listen to All I Want For Christmas a single time this year. The lyrics hit too close. 

I’m exhausted and sad.